


Give the Boy a Hand...

by Dresupi



Series: Quicktaser Fics [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, Darcy Lewis-centric, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or:  </p><p>The five times Darcy groped Pietro</p><p>Four times on accident, and once on purpose.  ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give the Boy a Hand...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xullre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xullre/gifts).



> Thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me. 
> 
> Hmm...how to preface this... 
> 
> This arose from a song prompt from tumblr. "Cheerleader" by OMI. 
> 
> Not that it has anything to do with what I wrote, but I did listen to it a lot and it makes me think of Darcy and Pietro. <3 
> 
> This isn't in anyway related to my other work, just a cute little one shot. 
> 
> Pietro's "Sokovian" is actually Serbian.  
> Translations:  
> Jebem mu-fuck  
> Izvinite-I'm sorry  
> Princeza-Princess
> 
> Thank you to abbie-a-aaronson for fixing my Serbian.
> 
> Fic also includes: Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Clint Barton at different times.

The first time was because he was bouncing his leg. 

She had been content to watch ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ by herself, but then he texted her and somehow, there she was, on one end of her sofa, listening to Pietro complain about how boring the movie was on the other end. 

“Is anything going to happen? This woman is horrible.  Are they going to do it soon?” 

“Yes, something happens…and they do, but you don’t see it…” she snapped. 

He sighed heavily and slid down further on the couch, crossing his arms like a petulant child. 

“I’m not forcing you to stay here…you can leave if you’re gonna bitch and moan about it…” 

He started bouncing his leg.

Which, probably wouldn’t have been a HUGE deal.  But the guy WAS Quicksilver.  And when he got going, it felt like a fucking jackhammer on the other end of the couch and THAT made it pretty hard to concentrate on Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard’s FUBAR relationship. 

She reached over to steady his leg, meaning to place her hand in the safe region right above his knee, but she was further away than she initially thought, or she wasn’t looking where she was reaching, OR maybe God has a HELL of a sense of humor. 

Because she didn’t JUST put her hand on his thigh. 

Oh no. 

She reached over, and closed her fingers right around his dick. 

His semi-hard, fucking impressive dick. 

He dressed to the left, apparently.  Good to know. 

She pulled her hand back like she’d burned it, crossing her arms tightly across the front of her and scooting all the way down the couch. 

He coughed, and she could feel his eyes on her.  She had to say something. 

“Sorry…” she mumbled. 

_Just fuck.  Lewis.  Fucking hell._

She silently berated herself because it wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed how fucking hot he was or anything.  But it wasn’t LIKE that with them and it wasn’t ever GOING to be like that with them, and it was just so much easier to handle that if she could just…imagine that he didn’t have a dick.  That he was just smooth like a Ken Doll down there because he might as well be as far as she was concerned. 

Now she had fuel for those fantasies…the ones involving a certain silver haired Sokovian and a can of whipped cream. Now nothing was stopping her from developing a full blown crush on the super-hot red-blooded Sokovian male on the other end of the couch. 

And that was sick because they were friends.  FRIENDS and that was it and she was just as bad as every guy who had EVER fantasized about their female friends, and…

“I’m…sorry?” he said genuinely.  She couldn’t look at him, but she could imagine the look on his face right now.  He was blaming himself when it was HER who fucked everything up…

_Sorry for what?  HAVING A DICK?_

“No…just…I’m sorry…” she pulled her legs up onto the couch with her, hugging them close to her.  “Don’t…it was an accident…” 

And the awkward silence that followed was worse than the leg bouncing, honestly. 

* * *

 

The second time it happened, Darcy didn’t even know. 

It had taken them FOREVER to get back to the level of comfort they had before. 

Pietro didn’t really understand why she was so upset, other than she was REALLY disgusted by the thought of him like that. 

Which kind of hurt, if he was telling the truth. 

Because he was going to ask her out eventually.  He’d been planning on doing it soon. 

But she was so violently opposed to the idea of his penis that his plans derailed and…

If she wanted to be JUST friends, he could be JUST friends. 

So he hadn’t brought up the incident on her couch.  He’d followed her lead and acted like nothing had happened. 

Even though what he really wanted was to ask her about it.  Ask what was so wrong with HIM that she couldn’t see him that way.  That she didn’t view him as boyfriend material. 

But it didn’t matter.  She didn’t, and that was that.  Being himself and annoying her about it would only result in not being able to be around her at all.  And in his opinion, not seeing her was worse than her not being attracted to him. 

He’d even tried dating someone else.  But she had fallen flat.  Not her fault.  She was perfectly nice.  Smart. Beautiful. 

But she paled in comparison to the woman sitting with him on the other end of the sofa. 

The woman who had finally relaxed enough around him to casually drape her feet over his lap.   

The woman who had no idea that her bare foot was propped up against that same appendage that had caused the problem in the first place. 

And this time, they were even in public, sort of.  Seated on one of the sofas in the common area.  Wanda was here, Stark was here, Clint was here…

And Darcy’s left foot was pressing steadily against his rapidly hardening cock, and any second, she was going to notice. 

_Just…breathe.  Think of something else.  Dead puppies.  Or something._

He couldn’t think of anything other than the heat her foot was generating in his lap, and how fucking good it felt and he didn’t have a foot fetish or anything, but it was DARCY’S foot, and if there was such thing as a Darcy Lewis fetish…he definitely had one. 

And that fact wasn’t helping matters at all. 

And as if his prayers were being answered, she lifted her foot, rolling her ankle in a circle. 

He dutifully grabbed it in mid-air and pressed his thumbs against the sole of her foot, near the top of the arch, and began to rub it in slow circles. 

She made a little humming sound and laid back again against the cushions. 

And he sat there, rubbing her foot because he didn’t know what else to do. 

Everything was fine, he was actually relaxing a little, his “problem” was still a problem, but it wasn’t in danger of ruining their friendship again, so he wasn’t really worried. 

And then, two rather large feet clad in grungy purple socks flopped up on his lap from the floor. 

“Mine next?” Clint smirked. 

What happened next was a blur, but it ended with Clint rolling backwards away from the couch and collapsing on the floor laughing.  Darcy pulled her feet away from him and tucked them beneath her. 

“Come on, Pietro, rub my feet…” Clint pleaded, holding his stomach and laughing loudly. 

“I will fucking end you, Old Man…” Pietro seethed.  “Go wash your feet, they smell like death.” 

“Not the feet, it’s the socks…I lost a bet…” 

Darcy half coughed, half laughed and covered her face with her hands.  “Somehow, it feels like WE’RE losing…please put your shoes back on…fuck…” she buried her face in the couch cushion. 

Pietro folded his arms across his chest and sunk down again, turning his attention to the movie that he’d be hard pressed to remember the title of. 

* * *

 

The third time was due to a pesky explosion in Avengers Tower.  And it didn’t really matter in the big scheme of things, since it was mostly forgotten in the aftermath.   

Pietro leapt for Darcy, pushing her to the hard floor of the lab just in time to avoid the huge explosion.

She was glad he was there, because the entire glass wall beside her blew out, and the deli-sliced ham life didn’t really appeal to her. 

As it was, she was just trapped beneath her meat shield…ahem…beneath Pietro.

And God, he smelled good.  She should have been a bit more preoccupied with the situation at hand.  Heh heh…HAND. 

But he smelled like sage and nutmeg and cedar and she just wanted to spend an entire afternoon smelling him. 

Because that wasn’t weird at all.        

The alarms started going off and the doors sealed shut and there was broken glass and Tony and Bruce were shouting, but all either Pietro or Darcy could really focus on was the location of Darcy’s hand, which was wrapped around her meat shield’s…meat.  For lack of a better term. 

“Oh god…sorry…” she yanked her hand up and out from between them. 

“Don’t be…it was an accident…” he said calmly, pushing up and off her.  He extended his hand to help her stand.  “Are you alright?” 

She nodded, “I think so…” 

He reached over absently to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

The way he was looking at her had her stomach all in knots. 

A stabbing pain shot up her right leg and she went down like a fucking sack of potatoes.  No graceful slides to the floor for Darcy Lewis. 

He caught her inches from the ground and set her up on a countertop. 

 _Oh god, he literally swept me off my feet…Jesus Christ that fucking hurts…_   

“Are you hurt?” He looked her over worriedly. 

“Ankle…” she pointed to the left one, tugging up her pant leg to reveal that it was indeed swollen, irritated-looking, dark red and getting darker. 

Just fucking great.

“ _Jebem mu…_ _Izvinite_ _…_ I’m sorry…” he knelt to inspect it, and she tried to concentrate on the feel of his fingers rather than the feel of the injury.    

“EVERYONE REMAIN CALM!” Tony’s voice boomed over everything.  “IT WAS JUST A MINOR EXPLOSION…”  He walked into the room, his face blackened, his hair sticking straight up in the air, looking like a fucking mad scientist who had just created life. 

“It liiiiivvvvvveeessss…” Darcy muttered under her breath. 

Bruce followed Tony, shaking his head and wiping off his glasses, before inspecting them more closely, realizing they were broken, grumbling and tossing them into the debris behind him. 

Darcy and Pietro stared at him, expecting answers. 

“IT WAS A SMALL CONTROLLED EXPLOSION…” Tony began to explain. 

“I would have preferred a BIT more control…” Bruce countered before sighing in frustration.  “He’s experiencing a bit of localized hearing loss…” he said, probably more to himself than to Pietro or Darcy. 

“BRUCE, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO SPEAK UP…I’M EXPERIENCING A LITTLE BIT OF LOCALIZED HEARING LOSS!!!”

Bruce rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Darcy.  “Are you guys okay?” 

“Yeah, Piet tackled me…saved my life, but…at the loss of my ankle…” 

Pietro started apologizing again, which made Darcy feel bad for even bringing it up.

Bruce’s mouth twitched upward slightly before he knelt to inspect her injury.     

* * *

 

The fourth time was later that night, when he was helping her hobble into her apartment because she had blatantly refused crutches because she didn’t want to admit she needed help. 

It didn’t stop her from clinging to his arm and using HIM for a crutch, however. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.  “I could…sleep on your couch…and you could call if you needed… something…or I could ask Wanda…if you’d feel more comfortable…” 

“No, no…I’ll be fine…” she hopped over to her arm chair, flopping gracelessly into it. 

“Darcy…”

“I’ll be FINE, Wonder Boy…don’t worry about me…” 

“But I feel responsible…” 

“You know, I’d rather have a sprained ankle than be DEAD, so really, it’s fine.” 

He crossed his arms, “Fine. Get up and walk to me without falling and I’ll drop it.” 

“Is that all?  Easy-peasy…” she stood on one shaky leg and hopped twice before he swooped in to catch her inches from the floor again. 

“Let me try again!” she protested, wriggling from his grasp and standing again. 

He sighed, taking a large step back to allow for her to close the distance. 

She took one tiny step and fell forward, he reached his hand out to support her and her other arm grabbed the front of his pants.  

He inhaled sharply and she swore under her breath, but kept her hand where it was until he had helped her up again. 

“I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose…” he muttered, sweeping her up in his arms and zipping her over to the couch.

“I am NOT!” she protested.  “If I was grabbing it on purpose, you’d know!  And it’d be to completion…” she tossed her hair confidently, in firm contrast to the blush rising in her cheeks. 

He laughed, depositing her gently on the couch.  “Do you want something to drink?” he asked, trying to keep the image of what she had just said out of his mind.

He opened her refrigerator door to reveal a partial case of beer and two sodas. 

“You have beer and soda…and a mummified…orange?” 

“I think there’s a bottle of water in the door.” 

There was. 

He took it and ran it back out to her, seating himself on the end of the couch. 

“I take it you’re staying?” 

He nodded smugly.  “Unless you’d rather Wanda stayed…” 

She took a sip of her water and scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.   “I guess you’ll do.” 

The gesture was intimate, and he immediately slipped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer, flush against his side, absently pressing a kiss to her forehead before he could really think about it. 

They both froze, he with his lips still pressed to her hairline, she with her hand slinking around his middle.  

Even though it was something he’d often thought fondly of in the past, they’d never actually done this before.  But, it was so easy.  Not at all awkward like most things.    

She was the one who broke the spell. 

“Piet…can I ask you something?” 

He gulped, “Sure…” 

Anything she could ask him would pale in comparison to the awkwardness that now surrounded them. 

“You know how…I keep grabbing your…um…pork sword?” 

He sighed, apparently, he was wrong.  “Yes?” 

“Um…why is it always hard?” 

“Do I need to explain to you how male arousal works?” 

“No, I need you to clarify if it’s me that’s arousing you…or whatever.” 

He could feel her shoulders tense under his hand and he knew he had to answer this because it was her awkward way of asking if he was attracted to her or not.  And if that wasn’t a loaded question, he wasn’t sure what was.

He laughed dryly, “I guess you could say I’m warm for your form?”

There was a split second where she didn’t say anything and he was terrified she was going to run (or hobble as the case may be) from the room in terror. 

“You are such a fucking dork, Maximoff…” she murmured, her lips pressing against his before he could craft a reply. 

And then he didn’t really want to. 

* * *

 

The fifth time was on purpose. 

They were watching ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ again, because she was determined to bore him to death. 

Or because she wanted him to understand why she loved it so much. 

Either way…here they were, snuggling on the couch, an hour into the film… 

And he couldn’t pay attention because she was too close.  She smelled too good and he wanted to feel her lips on his. 

He wanted to pull her into his lap and nibble her bottom lip and kiss her neck until she was squirming against him. 

He would go further if she’d let him. 

His hand under her shirt, playing with her bra, dipping his fingertips into the lacy cups…tuck them down under her breasts.  Thumbs grazing her nipples, swallowing her cries, feeling her fingers scrape against his scalp. 

Her hand reached out to grab his knee, to still his bouncing leg again. 

“Sorry…” he whispered, trying to settle into a more comfortable position.  One where his rapidly hardening length wasn’t going to poke her in the hip, because while she had certainly expressed an interest in taking things further, the pace she’d chosen was teasingly slow. 

And slow was something that drove him crazy. 

Not always in the bad way, though. 

She smiled, readjusting so she fit right under his arm against his side. 

Her hand moved up infinitesimally, squeezing right above his knee. 

He tried to concentrate on the movie.  It was difficult, there was practically nothing to hold his interest. 

Except Darcy’s hand moving steadily up his thigh. 

Her pinky finger stroked lightly along his inseam, making his leg jump. 

He could hear the actors speaking on the screen, but he had no idea what about. 

Because the only thing he could concentrate on, was not moving or bucking up against her hand as she slid it further up his inner thigh. 

She was higher than could be perceived as accidental, and she’d stopped just shy of the fucking circus tent his cock was pitching. 

“Piet?” she whispered, her pinky stroking the inseam of his pants again. 

“Hmm?” he managed. 

“How do you like the movie?” 

“Uh, I uh…it’s good.  Good.  Very good.” 

Her hand suddenly wrapped around his length, stroking slowly and causing him to choke on his words.  He coughed, “So fucking good…” 

She ran her hand up and down his length, barely brushing her fingertips against him. 

“Darcy…” 

“It’s on purpose, don’t worry…”

He laughed, or started to, because she squeezed and rolled her thumb over the tip and the laugh turned into a grunt. 

“Darcy…” he murmured, closing his eyes and reaching down to tug on the waistband of his track pants. 

She stopped him, her hand still stroking him firmly through his pants.  “Don’t…not until the movie’s over…” 

“How much longer?” 

“About…30 minutes?  Can you wait that long?” 

“Are you going to be doing that the whole time?” 

“Yes…” 

“Fuck…” he swore, bucking up into her hand.  “You’re going to kill me, _Princeza…_ ” 

“If eight gunshot wounds didn’t kill you, I doubt I will.” 

He turned to nuzzle her neck, moaning softly in her ear. Her eyes were still on the screen in front of them.

“Please…Darcy…” 

“Please what?” 

“Climb in my lap and let me play too…” he tightened his arm around her waist. 

“When the movie’s over…I actually want to finish watching it…” she squirmed when he rubbed his beard against her cheek. 

He grunted softly when she squeezed him again.  His cock had hardened to fucking iron under her touch and he was fighting the urge to rut against her. 

He took her earlobe between his teeth and reached between her thighs.  She was wearing jeans, so he wasn’t going to get very far, but he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. 

He ran his thumb from the bottom of her zipper down further between her legs, he pressed the heel of his hand against her, hearing the hitch in her breath and wanting desperately to hear her more. 

“Hey now…” she shifted, turning to face him and press her lips to his.  “That’s not fair…” 

He chuckled softly, “You’re the one who isn’t playing fair.” 

She released him. He started to complain, but she turned to straddle him, pressing down against his erection. 

He gasped, clutching at her waist while she rocked gently against him. 

“How’s that?” 

“Even better if you’d take these off…” he tugged ineffectually at her jeans. 

She smirked and rose off him, unbuttoning and unzipping and standing up. Her form was illuminated by the TV behind her.  She bent at the waist and started to shimmy out of her jeans, kicking them off and away.  She was standing in front of him in just her panties and a t-shirt.  Her hands on her hips and that smart-ass smirk. 

He reached for her and tugged her forward till she was standing between his knees and he was sliding his hands up her bare legs, over her ass and up to hook his thumbs under the hem of her t-shirt.  He pushed it up and pressed a kiss to her belly button.  She tugged it off the rest of the way over her head. 

Her hands tangled in his hair and he started to play with the waist band of her panties. 

Her hand went behind her, and a pop preceded her bra’s decent to the floor. 

She tugged his hands up to her now bare breasts.  He thumbed her nipples, before sliding his hands down to her hips again, encouraging her to step closer.  

He felt her breath hitch so he leaned forward to press his nose against her, inhaling her scent through the fabric.  He hummed, “Darcy _…_ you are driving me crazy…” 

She huffed out a sound that he supposed was laughter and her hands clutched his hair tighter and pressed him closer to her sex. 

His gut twisted and he pressed a kiss there, feeling the shiver go through her as he tugged down on her underwear. 

He started to lean back, pulling her with him.  She kicked off the panties and crawled astride him again. 

He scooted down on the cushion and pulled her hips closer to his face. 

“Wait…” she stiffened. 

“Hmm?” he stroked her hip bones with his thumbs, looking up at her expectantly. 

“Are you just gonna…are you gonna…” 

“Eat you?  I was planning on it…” 

“Like that? I mean…won’t that…hurt your neck?” 

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he raised his eyebrows. 

He felt her relax a little, allowing him to pull her closer, “Okay, I just didn’t want you to do something that was uncomfortable for you and oh—“

He grunted slightly, his tongue sweeping across her clit very slowly. 

“Piet…god…” she scooted up closer, making it easier for him to reach her, he held her hips to steady her, feeling her buck gently towards his face.

“Darcy…” he moved his tongue slowly in a circle around her clit. 

She was holding onto the back of the couch and biting her lip, her breath coming out harsh and loud. 

“Let me hear you…” he pleaded, reaching down to adjust himself before grasping her hips again. 

He steadily increased his speed, his body humming with energy.  She quaked against him, one hand tangling in his hair. 

“Fuck…” she cried out when he sped up again, using just a little of his ability to push her closer.   “Piet…god…please…” 

He released her hip, sliding two fingers up inside her, thrilling a little when she clenched around them. 

She started moving then, bucking towards his face and grinding against his tongue. 

“I’m close…Piet…please…” 

He moaned, fucking her harder with his fingers.  He felt her clench around him again, he swirled his tongue as she panted loudly, chanting his name and “YES!” over and over again until she stopped him.  

She was breathing heavily, her face flushed pink and her eyes dark with desire.  “Jesus Christ…” 

He smirked, wiping his face with his shirt, which he tugged up and over his head.    

“Good?” 

“Fuck you…” she laughed. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“I dunno…do you have condoms?” 

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, producing a blue foil square from it. 

“Look at you…a regular Boy Scout…” she grinned, running her hands up his chest.  He pushed down his pants and underwear in one fell swoop, kicking both onto the floor. 

“Damn…” she whispered, looking back and forth between his dick and him.  “Damn…” 

“You flatter me,” he said, knowing full well he was blushing. 

She reached for the condom, ripping it open and rolling it down over his length.  “You don’t need me to flatter you…you do a damn good job of that on your own…” 

He slid his hands up her waist, over her ribs and up to her breasts.  He rubbed her nipples lightly with the pads of his thumbs.  “Tell me what you like, Darcy…” 

She breathed out, reaching down to line him up with her entrance.  “I like that…more please?” 

He increased the pressure slightly, pleased with the response she gave. 

He shuddered when she started to sink down onto him.  Her slick wet heat surrounding him. 

She ground against him, her breath heavy as he continued to play with her breasts. 

“God…Piet…I want…” 

He paused, waiting. 

“I want…” 

“Anything, what do you want?” 

“Fuck me…” she pleaded. 

She would never have to ask him twice. 

He stopped playing with her breasts, holding onto her hips again as he bucked up into her. 

He set a fairly quick pace, because the sounds she was making were about to do him in.  He wasn’t going to last long, but he wanted to coax one more orgasm out of her before he finished. 

And she was just…beautiful. 

“Darcy…” he groaned, holding her still as he fucked her. 

And his name coming from her lips as she gripped his shoulders and hung on for dear life sounded like his salvation. 

“Pietro…”

If she could want him…there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.

There was a tug at the base of his spine, and he needed her to come, needed to feel her squeeze around him, needed to know she was feeling as good as he was…

He shifted his hips to hit her from a different angle. 

“Please come for me, will you come for me?” 

“Close, I’m close, babe…” 

He sped up more, her breasts bounced with the force and she wailed, her pussy clenching around him so fucking hard.

“Coming…I’m coming…” she blurted. 

And he was right there with her, his orgasm exploding hot from his belly.  He thrust through it, opening his eyes to gaze up at her, sweat beading on her forehead, her hands gripping his shoulders so hard it hurt. 

“Coming…” he whispered after it was over, resulting in uncontrollable peals of laughter from Darcy, who collapsed against his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her.  “Sorry…meant to warn you…” 

“I figured you were close…” she kissed his lips.  “You’re sweet for waiting for me, though.” 

“You’re surprised?  Haven’t I always been the perfect gentleman to you?” 

“Well…yeah…but…I mean, you kind of have that…reputation with the ladies…” 

“What reputation?” 

“You know….that you’re a…pussy hound…” 

He made a face, “Where did you hear that?” 

She shrugged, “Where DIDN’T I hear that?  I mean…” she started dragging her fingertip along his collarbone.  “You’ve got quite a chicktionary, just from what I’ve seen even…and if you fuck all of them like you just fucked me…why don’t any of them stick around?” 

“They don’t stick around because I didn’t want them to.  And they didn’t want to…” 

She bit her bottom lip, and he could practically see the wheels turning as she tried to decipher that. 

“This…you and I…are different…” he reassured her.  “Right?” 

They were, weren’t they?  He wanted her to stay and she…she wanted that too, didn’t she?

A kiss was his response, a soft kiss punctuated by more of her beautiful laughter.  “Yes, we’re different. Just try to get rid of me, Wonder Boy.” 

 


End file.
